“Ma, transgender ako”—a trans son comes out & comes home to love

Words by Nic Castañeda
Published with the help of the LGBT Psychology Special Interest Group, Psychological Association of the Philippines
Special thanks to ASEAN SOGIE Caucus

I realized that there are many ways of coming out as transgender. There’s the introduction of “Mom, dad, I’m transgender,” a defining moment for many trans people. It’s a declaration that’s scary, frantic, and rehearsed, but ultimately necessary.

Beyond this closet, however, are a few more impediments to living out one’s truth. In making sure we step out with sure footing, we ask the world to address us by the correct pronouns, more so by the right name (unless you’re lucky enough to have a unisex name). Bigger still, for trans folk who consider it do-or-die is the request to medically transition.

Each coming out is a disclosure of my transitioning self. And every time people accept me as myself, I redefine my own boyhood with each step. To date, there have been many opportunities to come out, from teachers to friends. I remember these disclosures like episodes in the spinoff that is my life as a trans person. The most memorable among these stars my family.

A recap from three years ago: I’m in my parents’ recently renovated bedroom and my mom is in tears. I had just self-harmed due to the weight of depression and dysphoria. “I just want you to be okay,” my mom mutters through her crying. I was crying too.

“Ma, transgender ako,” I told her. I kept my arm locked behind me, scars visible now only to the angel figurines my parents kept on their desk. We both composed ourselves amid of my sobbing. My mom nods and gives me a hug. No words, because moms read minds. And she knew that was enough.

In my experience, coming out either came with a rapid heartbeat or with an expectation of acceptance. With my family, I was always unsure. Still, despite a little drama, the outcome was a positive one. I was a lucky trans boy.

I recall the time I spent in a psychiatric ward. I was there for a ball of psychiatric-related issues, not necessarily linked to being transgender. After a few days of napping in solitude, my dad came to visit. Being institutionalized, my secrets were inevitably prepped for disclosure—and I at least had to pick one. It was during visitation time that I shared that I was, in fact, transgender. Without hesitation, he said: “I know, Nic. And I’m happy to have you as my son.”

Back in our household, there was the time my 19-year-old sister first came to hear that I was trans. Our relationship always swung from sibling rivalry to casual banter, and so sensitive topics for us were non-existent. It didn’t even take a grain of effort from her to call me by male pronouns. When she got on the phone with her UP friends that day, she proudly announced that she finally had a kuya.

I haven’t always been fortunate. I’ve felt relatives pause in scrutiny whenever I’m identified as male. Confessing my identity to a friend, I witnessed her shrug a final time before she disappeared from our circle. I’ve had to endure a counselor’s amusement when I shared an incident of harrassment because of my identity. Yet while relationships with relatives and so-called friends have been dented because of my being trans, my family has been my shield.

Since coming out, one shining moment with my family stands out. On the way home from a trip to Baguio, another sister and a cousin sat in with me in our car’s back seat. Startling me from a half-nap were words th words, “He’s a boy!” My sister’s declaration caused me to shift my weight as I awoke, suddenly hyper-aware that I was the topic of her conversation with my cousin. “So you use ‘he,’” my sister continued. “He used to be a girl but he’s actually a boy now. So you use ‘he,’” she emphasized. She was seven years old.

No amount of injected testosterone can measure up to the empowerment I got from my sister’s words that day. The feeling of my dad welcoming me as his son was as validating as when my sister called me her kuya.

And so while my world oscillates between acceptance and rejection, I try my best to see the world as kind. Being trans didn’t exclude or exempt me from that. While there are many ways to come out and many ways people choose not to accept you, there are also many people who will uphold you the highest respect regardless of your gender identity. Between choosing to love and accept unconditionally or dismiss someone’s truth entirely, I’ve made my decision, and it’s simple. To love I will.

SHOP

About Team

TEAM tackles how gay Filipino men relate their identity, from fuckups to fantasies, to where to go for music you can actually dance to. We may not have proper rights in our country but we’re claiming some authority by getting our words and ideas on page. And though we lack public places to convene, an open publication (and wide-open digital space) is a good place to start.